Several of the houses in my neighborhood had garage sales last weekend.  We woke at 7:30 a.m. to the sound of intense negotiating.  We were not participating.  It’s not that I didn’t have time to get sellable items ready and priced.  I  perused each room of the house, glanced in corners, lifted up piles of blankets, ran my fingers over hangers in the closet.  And then I sat on the couch. Empty-handed.  I have a problem.  I like our things.  Of course, there are clothes and books and cds and movies and the like that I could have sold, but maybe…I might….need those….later?

Here are a few things that I realized I really like.  They are mine.  They belong to me.

Web Ready Dragon 1editOkay, so this is Destro’s toy Dragon.  Technically, it belongs to me.  I bought it.  I spent an obscene $15 on this toy.  For good reason.  Destro DESTROys his toys.  He doesn’t care much for rubber balls.  He wants plush.  Soft, huggable, kissable plush toys.  With sqEEEEEEEEakers in them.  He pierces the internal squeaker mechanism within minutes = yay for us/sad for him. Then, he finds the seams, rips open the body and pulls out the cotton ball innards. All. Over. The. Room.  On an Extreme Destro Sport day, I came home to what looked like a masacare at the zoo.  Body parts everywhere.  Cotton still stuck in his tooth.  Guilty? Noooooo, not him.  Right.

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Which, brings me to Dragon.  Isn’t he cute? Yes, he is.  He is made with “Chew Guard Technology”. You can find him at Petsmart here. Now, the squeaker still did not last long.  But look.  He is intact.  Destro has had him for a few months and Dragon only has one hole in his foot. Yay for Dragon.

 

 

I’m not sure how it all started, but people/friends started giving me chickens.  The logical tie here is the University of South Carolina Gamecocks, my alma mater.  Hmmm….I have the strange notion that, well, yes!  I do like chickens, now that I think about them.  I especially like these:

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I could kiss them.  Every morning, The Hubbs and I remove the sugar bowl’s head and sweeten our coffee.  What joy!  What pleasure!  And even though I don’t put creamer in the creamer-er, I enjoy looking at the odd shape of his head.  My very good friend gave me these, I’m sure, with the intention of bringing me joy daily.  Doesn’t it look like they’re having their own private conversation in this picture?  Maybe the sugar bowl is the hen and the creamer-er is the well, male.  They are the perfect pair, you know.

 

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Uh oh.  Trouble in the coop.  He looks stunned, doesn’t he?  Love. It.

 

 

 

I grew up drinking sweet tea (on ice, people).  Occasionally, now that I’m more sophisticated (ppppffffff…), I will have hot tea.  But I will not be making any tea in this pot.  For health reasons, obviously.

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I love this teapot! I am 26 years old and I’m in love with a teapot I found at SuzAnna’s Antiques in Raleigh.  Gorgeous.  I have a friend in Berkeley, CA who will try to steal this from me.  He cannot have it!  I had a brief moment of kindness and giving-ness and thought, “Ah!  You know who would really love to have this?”  I thought about sending it to him.  I kept it.  For myself.

 

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This is the top of my teapot.

 

 

 

 

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This is the inside of my teapot.  Jealous much? 

 

 

So, no.  I did not get rid of anything at the neighborhood garage sale last weekend.  I sat and stared at my teapot and listened to the chickens clucking in the kitchen while Destro gave it his all with Dragon.

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